Freedom in Fragments

Tzadik;
2002

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I'm too cheap to get HBO. Every time a new season of "The Sopranos" comes on, I
wait for some friend to tape it, and then I borrow the whole thing-- all thirteen
hours-- and watch it in one, or maybe two sittings. But later, if I go back and
watch just one of the episodes, it's a different experience: every season is driven
by a few main arcs, but watching it piece by piece, you can focus on the smaller
stories and subtle structures that you miss when you plow through the whole thing.
Each episode both gains and loses something when it's jammed in with the others.

Fred Frith's suite Freedom in Fragments, written for and performed here by
the Rova Saxophone Quartet, explores the same idea: the relationship between the
parts and the whole. He says in the liner notes that he wanted to write compositions
"which could reach their narrative potential by a force of accumulation... small
stories that, when heard together, become big stories." Each of the twenty-three
sections of the suite has narrative qualities-- a feeling of drama, tension, or of
action unfolding-- which reinforce each other when the sections are taken together.

Take the third piece, "Song and Dance." The song bolts out with an anticipatory,
pulsing rhythm under a soprano sax solo by Bruce Ackley. It transitions to a
whirling folk song as Steve Adams steps up on alto, before changing again to a
driving but mournful finale behind Larry Och's tenor. This is a strong and
exciting piece by itself, but placed between the fanfare of "Advertising" and the
probing introduction of "Void Where Prohibited," it acquires a sense of drama:
it's establishing a scene, or introducing a story.

At the other end of the record, the conflicts and tensions throughout the suite
culminate in "Chained to the Skyway," an ominous song that breaks into rapid,
angry firing. There's some kind of a fight going on that barely gets patched up
on the next track, "Batteries Not Included/Nostalgia," where Raskin's baritone
stumbles in to make a guttural statement, and the others quietly join him. The
closer, "Freedom Is Your Friends II," sounds bleak and wailing-- and if there's
any complaint you can make about the piece as a narrative, it's that the conflict
and woe prevail without much of a catharsis. Tony Soprano may never escape his
emotional struggle, but at least he gets to whack people.

Though Freedom in Fragments forms a loose story arc, this is just one
configuration of the work. Frith intended to keep it abstract and open: none of
the compositions implies a specific story or theme, and further, they're written
to be played in any order. Some arrangements work better than others, but there's
no definitive sequence. Freedom in Fragments was commissioned in 1994 by
Rova, leading interpreters of new music who perform works that rely heavily on
improvisation. Their experience with this piece (it's still in their repertoire
today) shows in how well they interpret this flexible music.

The suite's greatest strength is the way it lets Rova crawl around their instruments,
from the melodic ballads to noisy skronk. The sax quartet is a powerful format,
and for as little as it's been adopted, groups like Rova and the World Saxophone
Quartet have demonstrated the awesome harmonies and pulsing rhythms that a small
all-sax ensemble can produce. "Freedom in Fragments" is a great workout, from
"Ikue's Song," a curious one-minute duet; the smooth and elegant "Water Under the
Bridge," which has the richest melody; or "T Square Park Lark," a ten-minute piece
that acts as its own epic, with Rova shifting seamlessly into group improvisation.
Each member of Rova is a capable soloist but it's the ensemble sections that are
really impressive: their growth over two decades together is undeniable.

Tzadik has done a typically great job of recognizing and recording an undervalued
piece of music. However, this time they made a critical mistake: probably to make
a good listening experience, the album only includes sixteen of the twenty-three
pieces in the suite. A few sections have been recorded before, but this will
probably be the only major release, and a different specialty label would have
thrown in every single measure and every scrap of music. If Tzadik had included
the other sections as bonus tracks, or included another disc with an alternate
sequence, this would be a definitive release; but as it stands, it's a great
record of a fascinating work.